


blooming into you

by makosinnergy



Series: sumitaba week 2020 [2]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Autistic Sakura Futaba, F/F, Lesbian Sakura Futaba, POV Lesbian Character, Persona 5 Spoilers, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Sumitaba Week 2020, background shuake and annshiho, for prompt 'flowers'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25816528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makosinnergy/pseuds/makosinnergy
Summary: Futaba has a secret admirer. It's very serious business.
Relationships: Sakura Futaba/Yoshizawa Sumire | Yoshizawa Kasumi
Series: sumitaba week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873126
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55





	blooming into you

**inkling:** AKIRA

 **joe mama:** what

 **inkling:** ANOTHER ONE

 **inkling:** schwing.png

 **joe mama:** oh wow that’s a lot of roses

 **joe mama:** your secret admirer is loaded

 **joe mama:** still no identifiers?

 **inkling:** none!!

 **inkling:** tbh i wouldnt mind as much if theyd just come clean like i justwanna know who they are

 **joe mama:** maybe they’re anxious?

** > ** i just want to

Three soft taps echo throughout the space, and you jump. Spinning your chair around, you glare with as much malice as you can muster in all your 152-centimetre glory and say, “Sojiro, a little _warning_ next time?”

“That was your warning,” He snarks back, undeterred by your mighty stature. Damn. “You telling Akira about the latest haul?”

“Yeah,” You swivel back around, deleting your message and sending a _brb sojiro_ in its place. An old man in the room totally kills the vibe required to lesbian panic. You begin speaking as you turn back, “We got enough vases?”

“Nope, but we _do_ have plenty of empty soft drink bottles. You got any empty ones up here? I was thinking we can move the daffodils into one and save the vase for the roses,” He gestures with his hand as he speaks, and you can see that he’s got last week’s bunch in his grip. Grunting in agreement, you get up and go to the trash pile. 

“Really, making your daughter do this for you,” You joke as you rifle through the garbage, skipping over the box of a Miku Nendoroid and the many magazines sacrificed for calling cards, “I should call that prosecutor and report you for child labour, y’know.”

“As if I’d use you for labour. That’s what Akira is for,” He matches you; you can’t see his face, but his tone is playful, so you know it’s landed. Unwillingly, a part of your back you hadn’t noticed tense uncoils. He continues, “If I was going to use you for anything, it would be as a mascot. You definitely _look_ like one of those girls you see in Akiba.”

There’s a lemonade bottle beneath the packaging of a yuri doujinshi. “Score!” You yell, turning and holding it out to him. You’ve got a dopey grin on your face, but you let it stay; it’s Sojiro. He’s safe, no matter what the heart palpitations are telling you.

He takes it and places the daffodils inside, a grin of his own on his. You think it’s fond, but you’re never really sure; you’re abysmal at stuff like that. He fiddles with them, speaking, “Now, Futaba, you’ve gotta tell that Okumura girl to slow it down, okay? I get that she likes gardening and that you like the petal texture, but we’re running out of space. It’s okay to put your foot down, remember?”

You pout and nod, “Fiiiiine. Spoilsport!”

Laughing and shaking his head, he leaves, the door sliding shut with a _click_. The tension slides out of your body; it’s just you, your computer, and the eternally watching eye of your stuffed unicorn. Flopping back into your gamer throne, you wake the PC up and log back in.

**inkling:** brb sojiro

 **_inkling_ ** _is offline._

 **joe mama:** ugh mood killer

 **_inkling_** _is online._

 **inkling:** ikr??

 **inkling:** i dont think the haru lie is gonna work for much longer :/ im fucked arent i

 **joe mama:** definitely

> press f at my fu

_Knock, knock, knock!_ “Also, you better empty that bin, young lady!”

_Goddammit._

* * *

It started a couple of months ago when you were in Maruki’s dream world. A bundle of gardenias, left on Leblanc’s doorstep, nothing identifying but the company’s label marking them as _For Futaba Sakura_. You weren’t even the one who found them; Akechi had, stumbling upon them when he _definitely_ wasn’t trying to sneak out in the morning. Naturally, Akira called an emergency team meeting.

You remember sitting on Akira’s couch, staring at the bouquet. It had looked so innocent, sitting on the coffee table; all pretty white petals that felt perfect to touch, in stark contrast to the mass-produced card attached to it. If you were anything like Yusuke, you probably could have waxed poetic about the contrast between the brilliant life of the flowers and the cheap label, but you aren’t anything like Yusuke, so you just sat there and stared in shocked silence.

Sumire got there first, followed by everyone in the usual order; Makoto first, Haru with Morgana, Ann dragging Ryuji behind her, Yusuke climbing the stairs with all the grace of a slinky. Even as they all filed in, the dusty space beginning to fill with chatter and warmth, all you could do was stare at the flowers.

Once Yusuke had dropped into his chair, looking like the world’s longest dakimakura, everyone gathered around the table, switching into Phantom Thief mode. 

“So, Joker,” Makoto had begun, ever the conscientious type, “You said it was urgent? What’s happened?”

“It better be good,” Ryuji said through a yawn, “Who calls a meeting at five in the freaking morning anyway?”

“Has Maruki-sensei contacted you?” Haru added. The mood of the room immediately darkened, and you remember Sumire’s fists clenching in her lap.

“I’ve called you here today to discuss an incredibly serious matter,” Akira was solemn, leaning forward in his chair, “Whatever we speak of today must not leave this room. It is--”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Akechi interrupted, smacking him upside the head. You’d jolted, snapping out of your shock to the further shock of _holy shit, Akechi just hit my brother, not cool, dude!_ Akechi didn’t care about letting you collect yourself, because he’d continued, “It’s about the fucking flowers. Someone left them for Futaba at Leblanc’s doorstep.”

Akira sulked, “Goroooo, you ruined my dramatic reveal. Meanie.” Everyone ignored him.

“For real?! Who would wanna--” Ryuji didn’t get to finish before Ann had nailed him in the ribs. Haru gasped, eyes sparkling, and Ann grinned. Morgana gave a mournful cry that sounded like something or other about you scoring before he did. Makoto had looked at the flowers with interest, and Yusuke appeared contemplative. 

Sumire gasped in comprehension, “Oh, _that’s_ why the flowers are there! I thought they were another one of Senpai’s decorations.”

Akira looked like he wanted to say something, but Akechi interrupted him with, “There’s a chocolate fountain over there, don’t even try to argue.”

There was; it bubbled on quietly, ignorant of the fact that this shit was happening. _It’s always me._ Your eyes burned.

Yusuke snapped his fingers and said, “They’re _gardenias_. Who would give Futaba those?”

Distracted from your thoughts, you yelled, “Huh?! Why shouldn’t I get flowers, huh?! _You’re_ the one who’s hopeless here, Inari!”

He shook his head, “It’s not that, it’s the flowers themselves. Gardenias represent secret love.”

Ann leapt into action, and the next moment you’d found yourself under siege by the great Ann Takamaki and her special ability, Bear Hug.

“Futaba has a secret admirer?” Haru said, giddy. You couldn’t see what was going on, too busy having your HP sapped by Ann’s D.O.T. attack.

“Why do _you_ even know flower language, anyway?” Ryuji asked.

“Flowers are vital to the history of art, and speaking through them is a time-honoured tradition in all creative mediums,” Yusuke began, and you’d tuned him out immediately; you didn’t care about some art freak’s flowers, you cared about _yours_. Ann finally eased up, moving from being on top of you to next to you. She may not look it, but she had some fucking muscles hidden beneath that gorgeous skin.

Morgana had hopped onto the table and was inspecting the card; Haru reached over and delicately held a blossom, examining it, “They’re not especially high quality, but they were definitely bred with care. They’re most likely from an affordable florist.”

“Ugh, I can’t smell anything on them, and there’s nothing on this card,” Morgana sneezed, and Akira reached over and patted him on the head.

“We can probably start by asking around,” Makoto shifted into Queen mode. Everyone was still speaking, going over plans for finding the sender; a sense of cheer hung in the air, but you couldn’t bring yourself to join in. The warmth from Ann’s hug faded, and the room spun away; it was just you and the stupid fucking flowers. Everything clicked into place.

“Guys, don’t bother,” You interrupted, lifting your legs to your chest, “It’s just some prank. Someone always does this.”

“What? Who would do that?!” Morgana yelped. _You poor, naive hope-incarnation,_ you remember thinking.

“It used to happen in school. People would give me fake love letters or fake confess to me as a prank. It’s just a weirder form of that.”

“I’m sure they didn’t mean it that way,” Sumire spoke up, fiddling with the ends of her scarf, “I mean, for one thing, we’re in the Dream Reality. I don’t think Maruki-sensei thinks bullying is okay. And, well, gardenias mean there was a lot of thought put into it, right? I’m sure they’re sincere!”

“But can we put it past him to orchestrate a way to break the spirit of our best navigator?” Akechi said, as much of a downer as ever. He was on your side, though, so you let it slide this time.

“If he did, I’m gonna Fists of Justice him,” Akira muttered, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses.

“I’ll join you,” Makoto said, smiling and cracking her knuckles.

Ann shivered, “Woah, cold. But I think we all agree there.”

“Well, if we don’t know, why don’t we just see if they send another one?” Ryuji scratched his face, “I mean, either they’ll give up -- which sucks if they’re genuine, but if they’re serious enough to send flowers they’ll probably send more, right? And if it’s some bastard, then they’ll get bored when there’s no reaction and quit.”

“Good idea, Ryuji,” Akira smiled, appreciative, “Let’s do that, if it’s what Futaba wants.”

“Yeah, sure,” You mumbled, pressing your face into your knees. Ann rubbed circles on your back.

“That might have been the smartest thing Sakamoto has ever said,” Akechi smirked, and Ryuji rose to the challenge immediately. You’d found yourself swept up in their usual chaotic camaraderie, the stupid flowers forgotten. 

A week of Palace infiltration and bone-deep grief had passed in a dizzying blur; boss battles and random encounters, navigating everyone through your brother’s therapist’s distorted heart. It was after another gruelling dive into the Laboratory that the next bouquet appeared; you’d been walking home, Morgana in your arms while Akira nursed a sore shoulder.

“Seriously, you gonna be okay?” Morgana had asked, and you’d nodded along; your voice had left you somewhere between the Palace entrance and the station. Akira just grunted, which would’ve been concerning if it were anyone but Akira Kurusu. “I mean, if you need a break, we can take one. You’ve just gotta--”

A flower then came out of nowhere and smacked you in the face. You’d looked down the street, and there they were -- a group of white flowers, scattered across the ground, a lone ribbon lying amongst them. According to Yusuke’s expert analysis, it was a bunch of sweet alyssum; representing beauty and protection.

“A rather poorly-made bouquet this time, I must say,” He’d said, rolling the ribbon between his fingers, “Thoughtful, but it’s obvious that a knot tied in haste would come undone. Why would they do so?”

You’d snapped, “Nobody cares, Inari,” and snatched the ribbon back. It was currently sitting on your desk.

This had continued; azaleas, jasmine, fucking _pressed cherry blossoms._ They were smart, too, hiding their trail and only leaving them when you weren’t around. Akira thought it was a riot, after the third one. Maruki’s reality crumbled and they didn’t stop. Akira got out of juvie, Akechi came back from rehab and scared the shit out of all of them, and it _still_ didn’t stop.

You don’t mind it. It’s kind of nice, actually, to be loved so much. You just wish you knew who they were -- and if you hope it’s a girl with red hair and crooked teeth, well, that’s just for you to know.

* * *

**_Cinnamon_** _is online._

 **Cinnamon:** Hey Futaba!

 **_inkling_** _is online._

 **inkling:** yo sumi

 **inkling:** wassup

 **Cinnamon:** Do you have any plans for next Sunday, around 3pm?

 **inkling:** uhhh lemme check

 **inkling:** 26th right?

 **Cinnamon:** Yes! That’s it!

 **inkling:** yeah im good then

 **inkling:** whatve you got planned owo?

 **Cinnamon:** It’s a surprise!

 **Cinnamon:** Just make sure to have a shower before we meet up

 **inkling:** mkay! nvn)b

 **_Cinnamon_** _is offline._

* * *

**inkling:** AKIRA 

**inkling:** I KNOW YOURE ON INVIS DONT HIDE FROM ME

 **_joe mama_** _is online._

 **joe mama:** rude

 **inkling:** im your lil sis n im in distress!! YOURE being rude!!

 **inkling:** SUMI ASKED ME TO HANG OUT W HER ON SUNDAY

 **inkling:** SHE SAID TO HAVE A SHOWER AKIRA!!!!

 **joe mama:** woah. that’s serious business

 **joe mama:** you need me to stalk you?

 **joe mama:** i can put goro on guard duty if you want

 **inkling:** I AM NOT HAVING YOUR BOYFRIEND BE THERE WHILE I HANG OUT WITH MY CRUSH!!

 **joe mama:** he’s not my boyfriend he’s my rival

 **joe mama:** there’s a difference

 **inkling:** gay

 **joe mama:** :thumbs_up:

 **joe mama:** but seriously you gonna be okay?

 **inkling:** i think so

 **inkling:** can u send mona over i need someone to bully

 **inkling:** raise my spirits you know how it is

 **joe mama:** i don’t actually but i’m happy to sacrifice my hope-cat to you

 **joe mama:** he’s on his way

 **inkling:** i wont release your search history

 **_inkling_** _is offline._

 **joe mama:** love you too <3

 **_joe mama_** _is offline._

* * *

You’re pacing around Akira’s attic; you aim to walk so much that it wears a hole in the wood and you fall through, like those stupid sink hole Mementos traps. You’ve gnawed on your thumb so much that you can taste blood, but you don’t stop. Akira’s sitting at his desk, fucking around on Tumblr and saying nothing, like the brother he is. Ryuji’s sitting on the couch; his feet are propped up on the table, and Ann’s sitting on it painting his toenails. Morgana is on the bed, fast asleep. You wish you were him. You wish you were any of them, actually, because then you wouldn’t be undoing all the hard work of showering by sweating profusely.

“You’re making _me_ anxious just lookin’ at you,” Ryuji broke the silence, “I mean, this can’t be healthy. She’s gonna be here soon, just distract yourself until then.”

You stop, turning to face him. Puffing up and standing on your toes, you glare with as much strength as you have right now -- which isn’t much, considering you’re pretty sure that you’re gonna dissociate soon -- and say, “Wow, yeah, Ryuji, I’ll just stop having an anxiety disorder. Great advice, there.”

“Yeah, shut up, Ryuji,” Ann says, before pinching one of his unpainted toes.

He screams, jerking away, “What’d you do that for?!”

You stick your tongue out at him, and Ann pointedly ignores him and turns her head towards you, “Futaba-chan, it’s normal to be anxious. I was super scared when I first went on a date with Shiho. But just ‘cause it’s normal to feel anxious doesn’t mean you have to obsess over it, y’know? Ryuji’s stupid, but his heart’s in the right place. Just try to keep yourself away from a panic attack and you’re good.”

Her words do make you feel better, but you can’t help but groan, “Why’d you have to say date?! It’s not a date! She’s, like, totally het. But thanks, Ann.”

She smiles and goes to respond, but Ryuji interrupts with, “Why’d you pinch me if I was right?!”

“Not even arguing that you’re stupid, huh?” Akira chimes in, smirking. He’s still scrolling through Tumblr, the little shit. Ryuji gives a wounded yelp and you all laugh; Morgana rolls over, moaning, and Ryuji accidentally kicks a bottle of nail polish, splattering it across the table. There’s a mad scramble to grab it and clean it, and you’re all grinning stupidly the whole time.

 _This is what family is like_ , something that sounds like Al Azif whispers from within, _this is what friends should be. Do not ever forget._

“Lucky it was brown polish,” You observe, pressing another page torn from _Playing the Game_ onto the spill, “We can just say it was from the chocolate fountain.”

Akira pouts, “But then Sojiro’ll say that he was right about it and I’ll lose two thousand yen.”

“Why the eff did you have two-k yen riding on your chocolate fountain?” Ryuji says, “You coulda spent that money with me at the arcade, dude!”

“You know I’m not good with money. I own _Playing the Game,”_ Akira says.

Chucking the ruined page into the garbage bag, you look over at Morgana; he’s awful furry, and there _is_ a lot of polish here -- except that would require sneaking something past Akira, so scrap that. Instead, you chime in with, “Yeah, major L there. What was the plan with it, anyway? Thinking of wooing Akechi into not shooting you?”

“Yeah,” He sighs, and you laugh. Ann sprays a Freeze Spray over a particularly stubborn patch and you scrub at it; it isn’t very effective, but it feels like you’re doing something.

There’s a jingle from downstairs followed by a yell, “Oi, kids! Yoshizawa-san’s here!”

You brace for an iron ball in your stomach, but you don’t feel anything; there’s no quaking, nothing’s spinning, and you can feel all your limbs. _What the hell?_

Ann nudges you, “You ready?”

You look up from the table. They’re all waiting for you, smiling encouragingly. You’re a Phantom Thief. You’ve fought God before. What’s one maybe-not-really-date?

Everything’s tinted red; the world spans before you, and it starts with getting up and walking down those stairs. _You know the answer._

“Yeah,” you say, “I’m ready.”

You get up and make for the stairs. Behind you, you can hear Morgana waking up; you imagine him blinking sleepily, staring at the disaster zone behind you.

You’re halfway down the stairs when you hear him speak, “What the _hell_? Is that a _book_? You know there are paper towels in one of the boxes, right?”

“Yeah, but this is more fun,” Akira says, and Ryuji and Ann yell; you stifle a giggle and enter Leblanc proper.

You’ve got this.

* * *

“Hi,” Sumire says. She’s got make-up on, and she’s wearing a white long-sleeved t-shirt covered in red polka-dots with a knee-length red skirt and ugg boots. She’s even got a bright red handbag and scarf. It’s atrocious -- it’s gorgeous. She’s gorgeous.

You don’t got this.

“Yo,” You try to play it casually, clasping your hands behind your back as you walk over. You’re pretty sure you’re blushing, but you don’t wanna know. “Where are we going?”

She leans over and whispers, “It’s a secret!”

You’re definitely blushing now. You glance at Sojiro, and he’s grinning, “You two have fun today, okay?”

 _Oh, it’s on!_ “Perverted old man!” You tease, linking your arm with Sumire’s and pressing yourself close, “C’mon, Sumire, let’s make like trees and ditch this dump!”

You drag her behind you as you leave; the door closes to the sound of Sojiro’s fond sighing and the original Phantom Thieves’ chattering. It’s cold outside, Winter well underway, and you duck your face into your scarf.

“Ah, I didn’t get to say goodbye…” Sumire says, and you become hyper-aware of the fact that you’ve just linked your arms together and dragged her outside. _What if she just wanted to stay at Leblanc? Fuck--_ “But it just means more time with you, I guess.”

She’s smiling. You unhook your arm and fiddle with your sleeve. Clouds cover the sky, dyeing everything grey -- except for her, dressed in brilliant reds and with a spirit so strong you can feel its strength without the Metaverse.

She begins walking, and you follow her. The walk to the train station is filled with companionable silence, and you spend all of it memorising how her ponytail bobs when she walks; the way every movement is so very elegant, every step made with care. 

The station is packed full of the usual people, pressed together like sardines. You instinctively grab Sumire’s sleeve, before realising what you’ve done; you let go, but she grabs your hand with your own and says, “Let’s hold hands so we don’t get lost!”

Ryuji once asked if any aspects of their Personas carried into Reality. Makoto had said it was unlikely, but Ann had pointed out how she felt like a furnace to touch -- how Yusuke seemed cold all the time, and how Akira seemed to melt into shadows, sometimes. She had responded that there was no way to scientifically prove that it was the Metaverse causing it, and not just environmental factors. With the subway lights washing over her, making her hair shine and her skin glow, you’re pretty sure you have all the proof you need to confirm that it’s true. Sumire is most definitely some weird divine being, because there’s no other explanation for how she’s pulling off those eye bags so well.

You walk side-by-side, moving with the crowd. Her hand is warm in yours -- it’s kind of sweaty, actually, but you don’t mind. Trying to keep watch of where you’re going, you say, “So, where’re we headed? You gonna take me to some sick jock hideout and totally rock my world?”

She giggles, “I told you, it’s a secret! C’mon, we’ve gotta turn here. Just follow me.”

It’s weird, being navigated by someone else, but you don’t mind it so long as it’s her. She chastises you for trying to look at the signs, and you make a show of looking at the ground as you board. The two of you are pressed together for the entire ride, the train news and the chatter of the subway filling the silence.

You’re still holding hands.

* * *

The first time you met Sumire Yoshizawa, she was trying to kill your brother and his rival who you were very sure was dead. You saw her through the eyes of Prometheus; scan-lines distorting her face, her voice long gone but continuing to scream anyway. She was unhinged, wild, and you remember your heart skipping a beat. You’d thought it was a moment of fear on behalf of your family, but looking back, you aren’t so sure that that was it, anymore.

* * *

“Can I take the blindfold off yet?”

“Nearly there,” Sumire promises, guiding you along. You gave up on trying to figure out where you were a long time ago; anxiety still curls in the depths of your stomach, making your knees weak, but when you’ve faced Gods together you tend to build up a degree of trust. Also, you’ve seen her stab a Shadow to death. And, well, not to brag, but you managed to land a punch on Makoto during your last self-defence lesson, so you’re definitely super strong and capable of handling yourself.

She stops and you nearly collide with her back. “Here, let me get it off,” She says and moves behind you; her fingers are cold, and you can feel the jagged edges of chewed nails brushing against your scalp as she struggles with undoing the knot.

With a cry of jubilation, it falls away, and you gaze upon your destination; _Kanda Yakusoba_ , the sign advertises. She moves back beside you and fiddles with the piece of fabric.

“I, um, know you like yakisoba,” She mumbles, all the previous energy seemingly gone, “So, uh, I asked around, and got a reservation, ‘cause I wanna get to know you better, I’m sorry if you don’t like it--”

You grab her into a hug, “Holy shit, you’re a genius, Sumire! This fucks!”

Her breath is warm against your neck, “Really? You like it?”

“Yeah,” You nod, “Didja get anxious and think I wouldn’t last minute?”

She squeaks, “How did you know?”

“I’ve got an anxiety disorder, dummy,” You (regretfully) let go, clasping your hands behind your back, “I’ve got plenty of experience with stuff like that. I was nearly pissing myself before you showed up, actually.”

“Oh, that’s good,” She smiles tentatively, flushed, “I was really anxious too. It’s just that you’re so strong, it’s easy to forget that you’re, well, y’know. Um, let’s go inside!”

“Yes, let’s!”

* * *

It’s a fancy place; it’s got a historical feel to it all, and it’s definitely more expensive of a place than you’d usually go to. Sitting across from each other, it hits you:

_Is this a date? Like, a real-life, super-serious date?_

Your orders are placed, and you gape at the size of Sumire’s.

“There is no way you’re eating all of that,” You challenge, “I’d put money on it.”

“Oh, how much?”

“Two thousand yen!”

“Eh, are you taking after Akira-senpai?” She blinked owlishly.

“Huh?” You tilt your head to the side, “What’s he got to do with me being totally right?”

“Well, we go to Big Bang Burger sometimes and make bets on who can eat the most,” She explains, beginning to dig through her skirt, “And that’s always how much he bets. I’ve got a picture, hold on--aha!”

She fiddles with her phone and hands it over, and sure enough, there’s a green-faced Akira collapsed on the ground; Sumire is taking the selfie over him, holding two thousand yen in bills. “Holy shit.”

“You scared?” She challenges as she takes the phone back.

“Mwehehe, as if!” You lean forward, signature grin in place, “Let’s raise it to ten thousand _and_ loser foots the bill!”

“You’re on!”

* * *

“ _How,_ ” You moan, face pressed against the counter, “I’ve got a hollow leg for yakisoba but you _still_ won. Urp!”

Sumire giggles and you don’t know if your flipping stomach is caused by the yakisoba overload or how cute she is. _Women should be illegal, seriously, they’re all too hot._

“I exercise a lot, so I need a lot of carbs,” She explains through her giggles, “I’m pretty used to being nauseous, too, because of how gruelling practice can get.”

“Y’know what, that sounds like bullshit but I don’t know enough about body science to dispute it. I bow before your expertise, O Great Sumire.”

“Bow before your yakisoba champ!” She strikes a pose with her upper body before the anxiety kicks in. Face going as red as Panther’s catsuit, she sunk back into her seat and stuttered out apologies.

“Wait, hold up!” You lean forward, nausea forgotten as what Sojiro calls your _special interest mode_ kicks in, “Was that a Featherman pose?!”

“Um, yes?”

“Yes, yes, yes! How have we never talked about this before?! Fave Featherman? Fave season, and why is it 3?”

“Featherman Toucan, and three is the best because of how it has a consistent overarching theme and how everyone stays consistent,” There’s a fire in her eyes as she continues, “Everyone’s arcs are so good! And when Ostrich sacrificed himself for everyone…!”

“It was _perfect_ , and then they retconned him back!”

“Yes! It totally undoes his arc and the entire finale loses its punch!”

“Who’s your favourite?

“Swan,” You rock back and forth, trying your best to not start flapping; something tells you that these higher-class folks wouldn’t like it. You ignore the voice in your head that says that Sumire would hate it too and continue, “I know they added her in the re-shoot of season five, but she’s really cute and nice! Even if her arc wasn’t written the best, I think she deserves her place there.”

She blinks, shocked. “I…”

“Is there something wrong?” _Please don’t be a purist, my heart couldn’t take it._

“It’s just, well…” She looks down at her lap, shifting nervously, “I relate to Swan a lot… she took on the persona of her brother when he died, and struggled to deal with her grief.”

“She overcame it, though,” You point out, wishing that the table wasn’t so stupidly big; you wanted so very badly to hug her right now. “Just like you.”

“But I collapsed. I--I _gave up_. I’m dealing with it, but… it’s so hard. I started crying last week because I made two lunches, how stupid is that?”

Her eyes are glistening with tears, voice beginning to crack, and you feel your heart squeeze. _Shit._

“Sumire, it’s okay to cry.”

“Huh?”

“It’s alright to break down -- I mean, I do it at least once a week,” You don’t know what you’re saying; you’re just trying to channel Akira as hard as you can, “You were only pretending to be okay, and now you’re not. You’ve given up your persona, and that’s scary, but it’s important because otherwise, it isn’t _you_ dealing with it. And I don’t want you to disappear, because I like talking to you!”

She sniffles, rubbing at her eyes before facing you with a smile, “I’m sorry. Thank you, Futaba-senpai.”

You waggle a finger, “Just Futaba! We’re the same age, and we’re no longer operating as Phantom Thieves. Until I’m Navi again, I don’t wanna hear you deferring to me, got it!”

“Pffhahahaha!” She laughs, doubling over. Another couple looks over, but you can’t bring yourself to care. “You’re great, Futaba. I mean it. You’re… different from me, but it’s really nice, talking to you.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. _Akira successfully channelled, crisis averted, Navi continues to reign supreme!_ Before you can think of a new topic to talk about, a waiter comes over.

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies,” They say, retail smile on point, “But your reservation is nearly over.”

“Oh! That’s alright! I’m sorry to bother you!” Sumire stammers, and you nod along, giving your apologies. You both get up and head to pay, and you mock-cry as you hand over your debit card.

“You’re costing Sojiro so much money,” You tease as they print the receipt, “Naughty you, disrespecting our dad like that!”

She giggles into her hand, shaking her head, “Well, we’ll see who he sides with when he hears the details.”

“Nevermind, let’s never tell him!”

Sumire reaches and links your arms together, dragging you outside. You’re both laughing, grins on your faces and cheeks flushed. Outside, the sun is setting on the horizon, the sky a blazing orange and the streets a deep black. You go to begin the journey home, but she pulls you back.

“What’s up?”

“I,” She begins, then stops, fiddling with the straps of her handbag, “There’s, um, something I need to tell you.”

You face her, doing your best to breathe, even as the gears in your brain churn. _She doesn’t hate you, that’s the anxiety talking._ “Go on.”

“I, um, I… I’myoursecretadmirerpleasedon’thateme!”

Your brain stutters, stops, and then starts again. You’re pretty sure that, if brains made noises, you’d be making Windows XP noises. “Wha?”

“I’m your secret admirer! I sent you the flowers!” She stammers, eyes glittering again. She’s turned her attention to her handbag, fumbling with the zip, “I screwed this up, I’m sorry, I was going to give you this flower and confess but I saw the sunlight on your face and I just--said it!”

Sumire Yoshizawa, the girl you’ve been enamoured with since you met her, is your secret admirer. Sumire Yoshizawa who likes the Featherman you definitely don’t kin, Sumire Yoshizawa who saved your brother’s life, Sumire Yoshizawa who nearly killed Joker and Crow when she went berserk, Sumire Yoshizawa who just ate four servings of yakisoba without puking. Sumire Yoshizawa, who you were very, very sure was in love with Akira Kurusu until thirty seconds ago.

Sumire Yoshizawa, _who is your secret admirer, gives_ a cry of triumph, taking something out of her bag. It’s a pressed violet. You’re pretty sure you’re going to cry.

“Here,” She said, pressing it into your hands. You take it; your ears are ringing, and all you can think about is how she chews her nails, too. “I was going to give you this and then confess and then--I don’t know, okay, it was something Akira talked about and it sounded really cool, I’m sorry, I’m such a fuck-up.”

“I--no, what, wait, it’s okay? You’re not a fuck-up for this,” You cradle the blossom gently, pressing it against your chest, “I’m super flattered. Holy shit!”

She ran her fingers over her scarf, over and over, “I didn’t know how to tell you so I just--copied something else. It’s what I always do. I was gonna write poetry, but it turns out I’m really bad at it, um. Are you crying?”

You’re crying.

“Oh, oh no, I know it sucked, you deserve better than me, I’m sorry! Look, let’s just -- forget about this and go home, okay? Um, is there anything I can do to help? Are you non-verbal right now?”

She is also crying.

“God, we’re such weirdos,” You choke out, “Two grieving messes in love with each other.”

“Yeah -- wait, what?”

“I love you too, dummy! I love you just the way you are, you stupid athlete!” You’re both sobbing messes outside of a yakisoba place; it’s a match made in heaven. You grab her and pull her into a hug; she leans into you and you into her, and you’ve never really gotten all that couple shit about melting into one person, but you think you’re getting pretty close, here.

“This is the worst conversation of my life,” She hiccuped; your height difference makes it a bit awkward, her cheek pressed against the side of her head and your face buried in her chest. All of the hairs in your body stand on end as her warm breath hits your ear; _she’s so close. We’re holding each other. This is happening._

“Worse than the one with Kasumi?” You joke, and the realisation of what you’ve said hits, “Wait, foot meet mouth!”

Except she’s laughing, shaking and swaying in your arms. There’s snot in your hair. It’s fucking fantastic. “I really admire you,” she says through the giggles, “Even if you accidentally bring up my trauma when trying to make a joke.”

“Oh, good. Tell me when I go too far, though, okay? I never wanna hurt you.”

“I will,” She mumbles, nuzzling into your hair, “You make me feel safe.”

 _Bury me with my Featherman figures_ , “That’s maybe the second nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“What was the first?”

You grin, “Well, this very pretty girl once told me she was my secret admirer, mwehehe.”

“She sounds like a pretty shit secret admirer.”

“Gasp! Who taught you swears! Was it Gaykechi?”

“Did you just _say_ gasp? Nerd.” You hum in agreement, nuzzling into her chest. There’s a _click_ , and suddenly the warm light from the store vanishes.

“...Should we make like trees?”

“Mm, not yet.”

“M’kay.”

You stand there, together, swaying in harmony. Bathed in artificial lights, the hum of the city beneath your feet and hearts thumping in unison -- it’s like this you stay for both far too long and not too long at all. When you finally break apart, it’s with flushed cheeks -- and even then, you’re still holding onto each other’s hands with an iron grip.

* * *

**inkling:** how dare you teach sumi swears

 **Inkling:** worst big bro ever

 **Gaykechi:** fuck you.

 **Gaykechi:** <3

 **inkling:** <3

* * *

Leblanc’s door is, for the first time in your life, the last thing you want to see right now. You want to sit in Sumire’s bedroom, see how she uses her computer, watch Featherman with her -- you want to stay together forever. She was comfortable and warm, soft despite her ridiculously thin arms and sharp elbows. 

You’re both just standing there, hovering on the doorstep. Technically, it’s not your house, but you’re not sure if Sumire actually knows where you live and infodumping to Akira sounds nice. Not as nice as the infodumping you’d done to Sumire over the train ride, but he’d just have to deal.

“Um,” Sumire reached back and fiddled with her ponytail, shifting on her feet and awkwardly letting go of your hand, “So, um.”

The tension in the air is so thick, Crow could cut it with a Laevateinn. You are both very, very sweaty. A cat nearly as cool as Mona is yowling somewhere nearby.

“Oh, _screw it_!” You grab her face and smash your mouth against hers. It’s nothing special, really; it tastes like yakisoba, salt, and strawberry lip balm. It’s amazing. She jerks away, gasping for air and staring at you.

“I’ve never kissed a girl,” She whispers, eyes wide, “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

“Neither have I,” You let go of her and wipe at your mouth. Your violet is crumpled in your sweaty grip, but it’s still beautiful. “That kinda sucked.”

“Yeah,” She gasps out, “Yeah, it really did. Do you wanna try again?”

“Hmm, I dunno,” You tease, grinning, “Non-girlfriends get one kiss. You’ve gotta upgrade to the girlfriend tier for any more.”

“Do I, huh?” She smirks, and for a moment she looks just like Violet again; it’s almost enough to knock your knees out from under you. “What’s the requirements?”

“Take me out again next week,” You grab her hand again, and she squeezes yours tightly, “Oh, and what’s your favourite flower?”

* * *

**GROUP CHAT: 1312!**

_All members are online._

**inkling:** GUESS WHAT

 **annther:** omg what

 **inkling:** SKULL. DRUM ROLL PLEASE!

 **yarrgh:** :drum:

 **Cinnamon:** We’re dating!

 **joe mama:** epic

 **Makoto I:** Congratulations! Sumire-chan’s plan worked then, I take it?

 **[tips fedora]:** I knew it would!

 **inkling:** HUH

 **inkling:** WHAT

 **inkling:** MAKOTO? HARU? YOU KNEW??

 **Gaykechi:** everyone did

 **Cinnamon:** Yeah they all figured me out ^^;

 **Cinnamon:** Akira got me after the second one

 **Cinnamon:** Everything afterwards was funded by him

 **joe mama:** :thumbs_up:

 **joe mama:** i’ve got five mil in the bank might as well use it to say lesbian rights

 **yarrgh:** bro i think we broke her

 **annther:** when u said sumi was het it took so much effort to not let it slip jhjhjhj

 **Makoto I:** I’m very proud of the two of you for not giving it away.

 **inkling:** im going to organise a data breach

 **inkling:** i hate all of you

 **joe mama:** love you too <3

 **Five Nights at Freddy’s:** I love you, too, jOKER.

 **yarrgh:** jOKER

 **inkling:** shut up inari

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me @makosinnergy on pretty much everything!! i love these lesbians  
> if formatting is fucked up it's ao3's fault and i am so sorry


End file.
